Learning to tune a guitar.

I taught myself how to tune a guitar this morning. The feeling rated up there with pitching that first tent. It's nice to feel competent. I like the idea that I'm capable of learning things without any help whatsoever. It makes me think that if I were ever on a deserted island, I'd be just fine. I'd figure out how to hunt and gather. I'd build a little treehouse out of bamboo with working water pipes and a dumbwaiter, weave a welcome mat out of banana leaves, and use moss to stuff a mattress. I'd use a conchshell to make music, and I'd make paint from soil and bark and maybe even dung. It would even be fun. I've read Robinson Crusoe. I like the idea of that sort of solitude.

I've decided, since I have my father's neglected guitar at my disposal, that I'd teach myself how to play. Why not? I don't have much else to do. I have a couple of songs that I'd like to learn. Maybe "The Heart of Saturday Night" and "Gun Street Girl," for starters. Maybe some classical tunes also. Then I'll start to write my own songs and become a big singing sensation. Or maybe I'll just play in my bedroom for myself. Either way, it'll be nice to make my own music.

I'm also talking to a local coffeeshop owner about displaying some of my photographs. They're not great by any stretch of the imagination, but I don't have too much competition here. Some, I'm sure, but not like I'd have in New Orleans.

And, finally, I've decided to start looking into graduate school. It's time to face facts - I'm never going to be a very useful person. I majored in English and Philosophy. I think that says a lot about my desire to contribute anything practical to society. And so I think that I may as well follow my long-time dream of becoming an absent-minded professor of the liberal arts. To ensure that I don't accidentally began serving a purpose, I've decided to go to school for Cultural Studies. That should do it.